The College Years
by StarvingWriterMaeve
Summary: You can take the boy out of Hillwood, but the drama never stops. "Love is Like A Baseball Bat" continuation.
1. Summer's Still Going

**A/N:** I couldn't resist writing more chapters so fast.

* * *

**Love is Like A Baseball Bat - The College Years**

_Chapter One: Summer's Still Going_

* * *

It was really happening.

He was playing baseball again.

Arnold imitated Coach Tanner's back stretch, bending his sides as far as they could go without too much pain. His right side still had a slight twinge to it if he overworked himself.

He'd been at the University of South Carolina for almost two weeks now. He had an orientation with his parents after he moved into his dorm. He had a suite, two bedrooms connected by a bathroom. The boys in the other room were showing up when fall class began. His roommate would be showing up tonight, but Arnold didn't know why. All he'd gotten was an e-mail from the school announcing his arrival.

For the past week Arnold had only been playing baseball. He was getting to know the team, and feeling the backlash of hazing. The pranks were minor, but he knew as the year progressed, Arnold was going to have to work even harder to earn their trust. He'd been assigned the duty of Designated Driver. He had to be available to pick up the team members at any time of night, no excuses or exceptions.

He figured if he could put up with taking care of the kids in Hillwood, he could handle a month or two of picking up more experienced drinkers.

Arnold had been so wrapped up in baseball practice for hours on end, which included morning runs around the entire campus, weight lifting in the gym after lunch, and his physical therapy ab exercises after batting practice, he was running low on energy. He felt terrible about not being able to talk to Helga for more than half an hour. He'd either pass out on the phone because it was so late at night, or only be able to give her short text responses.

Helga was bummed.

She'd applied for a job working downtown close to the HU campus. She was able to see the dorms and summer students, as well as serve them coffee. The manager was understanding about her taking classes in the fall and promised her a part time job here during the year.

But that didn't help her stop missing Arnold.

Every night after work she'd drive back to her house and find Gerald laying on her stoop. Sometimes he'd be propped up against the door, other times just resting on the ground with his head on the welcome mat.

Miriam had offered him a job at Pataki Electronics. The pay was decent for a first job and Miram was really nice and understanding. It was all fine. She even gave him rides back to her house, which is why he waited outside for Helga. She didn't mind seeing him, they were friends after all.

But he was just as sad as Helga was. Phoebe was so busy working in laboratories and studying atomic particle collisions, or something, she could hardly stop to text an apology. He knew college was bad, but, man, he never got to talk to her.

Occasionally he and Helga would have a good time. They saw the new Evil Twin XI and ended up laughing so loud at the plot twist in the movie, which caused them to get kicked out of the theater. They'd spend weekend afternoons at Rhonda's house with those few students left: Nadine, Sid, and Harold. But then Rhonda went to Aspen and no one could agree on where to hang out.

Helga tried her hardest to stay out of her house for as long as possible. Olga had made herself a permanent guest, always bothering her about what she was doing or who she was talking to. Like it was any of her business.

June passed with a few thunderstorms and one heat wave and suddenly it was the middle of July. Summer was heading to a close with only three weeks left. The only thing keeping Gerald from going insane was the fact that Arnold was coming back on the 16th for a five day break.

"I'm so sick of being here," Gerald pushed his dinner away. His dad looked at him curiously from behind his newspaper.

Jamie-O glanced up from his iPhone. He remembered getting the pre-college itch so badly he hitchhiked to California with his friend just to get out.

"My boss asked me to take his yacht out next week. He needs it in the Bahamas. Do you want to come with me?" He had been employed by a very wealthy businessman. Jamie-O had been an intern, but managed to work hard and charm his way to the top. He was earning quite a salary, but refused to buy his own place until 'he had someone to live with.' So for now he was crashing as his parents while a room in his boss' NYC loft waited.

Gerald looked at his dad for approval before cheering, "Oh, my God, yes! I so want to go!"

Jamie-O typed away on his cell, grinning as it vibrated with a response. "He said the more the merrier. Looks like you can bring a friend."

* * *

**_August 2nd, 2011_**

* * *

Rhonda pressed her iPhone tighter to her ear, cupping her empty one to block out noise. "Hold on!" she shouted. It was so hard to hear at the Phi Kappa Psi frat house, especially since a beer pong tournament was happening a few feet away. Rhonda walked upstairs and into one of the brother's bedrooms before shouting over the music rising from the floor below, "You need what?"

"_I need to see if this thing was legally binding in the United States or not_."

"I missed what you said earlier, sorry. What?"

_"Call your lawyer and ask him about my m__arriage_!"

* * *

Iggy rolled over in his hostel bunk bed, eyes blinking furiously at the sunshine peeking in between the curtains. He groaned and kicked his foot up at Lorenzo's mattress.

"They're gone," he muttered, rubbing his eyes and starting at the empty room. The two Spanish beauties they'd met at a bar across town had come over for a very long after party.

Iggy stood up so suddenly he smacked his head against the bunk bed framing. "Shit! Lo, we were robbed!"

Lorenzo shot up too, scrambling down the ladder to check the small dresser and bathroom.

Money. Passports. Tickets. Clothes. Suitcases. Cell phones. All of it.

Gone.

* * *

Arnold tried to laugh along, but after the third ball hit him in the chest, he was starting to feel the pain. He was still being hazed, even though he was a week and a half away from leaving before fall classes started. And it really hurt because he was so exhausted. Morning scrimmage games were not his thing.

"Come on, Arnold, let's see your swing!" the pitcher teased as he wound up the ball. Arnold had been slow to start the summer. He hadn't done well batting, and the team picked on him for it, despite the coach's protest that he was a great hitter.

But he'd had enough. Arnold sucked it up and swung with every bit of power he had in him, sending the ball soaring back into the edge of the field.

The pitcher stood back in awe, jaw open slightly. Most of the team was stunned, simply watching Arnold run the bases while the ball still sat in outfield. Arnold saluted from the brim of his Gamecocks cap as he rounded third base.

He met the pitcher at home, who grinned and shook his hand. "That was a great hit." The rest of the team came out to congratulate him as well.

"Thanks."

* * *

YOU'VE GOT MAIL:

INBOX (1)

Gerald double clicked on the new message from Phoebe, smiling as he looked at the time it was sent, 2:40 a.m. Poor girl was working herself to the bone, studying and staying up late to pass her summer class.

He read Phoebe's message with a grin spread across his face. She was finishing up her fourth week in class. Her roommate, she said, reminded her of Lila and the two found it easy to get along. She'd been going out and exploring Cambridge with her hall mates. She talked about the beauty of the architecture, and the history behind it. She even included a few pictures of some of her classrooms and friends.

Gerald was about to begin his reply back, but a new e-mail _bing_ made him click out and check.

It was another one from Phoebe:

_Something's wrong._

* * *

"I just got a very interesting call from a lawyer named Mr. Pepper," Miram glanced at Helga across the table.

Helga tensed. She had tried so hard to keep this from her mother. "So, uh, what did he want?"

"He said he needed more details about the union before he could draw up annulment papers." Miram crossed her arms, waiting a moment before speaking again. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Helga avoided eye contact with her mother. She wished she could shrink to two feet tall and hide. Go anywhere but here. "Well..."

"Oh, my God, Helga!"

"I know, I know. I was hoping to do this quietly and avoid you ever finding out. I just...well, I was drunk if that helps make any of this better."

Miram fell silent; this was serious. She knew that this situation needed to be handled delicately. "Okay, so, tell me what happened."

Helga put her fork down, officially ignoring the omelette Olga had cooked before going shopping. "There's nothing to tell, really. We were drunk and stupid and thought it was really funny." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from her mother's stare. She glared down at her body, still nicely tanned from her recent and disastrous vacation. She wished it would just fade already.

"But you're not really married, right?"

"That's the problem, Mom. I don't know if it's considered a binding contract here. I might not even need this annulment."

Miram pursed her lips, "But you have a license?"

"Yeah. The minister was kind enough to give it to us after the ceremony."

Miram couldn't help it. A smile spread across her face despite the gravity of the situation. She was cracking up inside. It probably wasn't the best, or most responsible, response to her youngest daughter getting married while drunk.

Helga quirked her eyebrow, "You're not yelling."

"No, I'm not. You're almost nineteen, Helga. I know you're gonna make mistakes. Although, I'm not really sure why you'd want to separate from Arnold."

Helga's eyes went wide, suddenly remembering the lie she'd told her mother before the trip. She said she was driving to see Arnold at school. God, she was so screwed. She groaned, "See, that's the other problem." She bit her lip, turning her attention away from her mother and onto the wall. "I didn't marry Arnold."

* * *

Lorenzo's photographic memory had known to be a little faulty when he was drunk, but he managed to capture a basic description of the girls to the hostel owner and Spanish police department.

While Lorenzo was speaking fluent Spanish, Iggy walked around the familiar police station. The gray painted cinderblock looked much less threatening now. The dozen or so officers continued to move around the space, some typing on computers while others talked on the phone and drank coffee.

Along the walls were small photos of serious threats to Barcelona - men and women with scary scars and tattoos holding up plaques with their names and random numbers. Most of the photos were faded, blurry and black and white.

Iggy stopped at one of the few in color and grinned, laughing at the memory of that horrible night. "Thad, you crazy bastard."

Lorenzo walked over and laughed at the mug shot as well. "I got some change from the officer to make a call to my grandparents. Hopefully they'll be able to come and pick us up. It's a day long ferry ride from Italy to Spain."

"Do you know their number?"

Lorenzo tapped his temple, "Of course I do."

The two walked over to the public telephone at the front of the station. Lorenzo slipped the coins into the slot and picked up the receiver, dialing the Napadano's number.

His grandmother, his mom's mother, picked up on the third ring. "_Pronto_," she said.

Lorenzo began speaking in Italian, "Nonni, it's Lorenzo. Something bad has happened."

She gasped. "Oh, no, are you hurt?"

"No, we're fine. All of our stuff was stolen from our hotel room. Clothes, phones, money. Everything."

"You poor things."

"I'm calling from the Barcelona police station. I don't know how much time I have left, but the officers told us there's a ferry from Italy to Barcelona leaving tomorrow."

"Oh! Yes, yes, I will send your cousin to come get you. Don't worry!"

"_Grazie_, Nonni."

After quickly discussing a meeting place, Lorenzo hung up the phone. "My cousin will take the ferry tomorrow. We have to meet him at the docks."

* * *

"Hey, Arnold, we were about to change, go to an early dinner and meet up for the sorority party, you in?" The Gamecocks pitcher, Logan, slung his sweaty arm around Arnold's shoulder as they walked to the locker room.

Logan was a #35, senior, majoring in history. He was one of the tallest players on the team, at 6'7, and also the only one who kept his head closely shaved. Arnold had grown a few more inches in the past few years, but he still felt short next to Logan. Pitchers were supposed to be tall, and if Arnold couldn't grow any more he'd most likely never pitch for the Gamecocks.

Arnold wanted to go out with the team. He'd mostly been going to dorm room parties, but a sophomore had told him that it wasn't 'college.' He felt guilty turning them down two nights in a row, but he really needed to talk to Helga. "No, but, thanks though. I have a lot of work to do, actually."

"Well, there's a frat party later too, you could just swing by after."

Arnold smiled, "Sorry, I can't because I. . ."

Logan suddenly understood. "Oh, you're one of_ those _freshman."

"What?"

"Girlfriend back home. Too afraid to go out and see the world because you might be _tempted_," Logan mocked him.

Arnold shrugged. Was he that easy to read?

"Don't worry about it, dude. We wouldn't let you make stupid decisions or get too drunk. We're a team. And we do have classes to attend, after all. Come on, one night out before the real work begins should be good for you."

"Alright then," Arnold smiled as Logan nodded.

"I'll swing by the freshman dorm after dinner to come get you."

* * *

Gerald wanted to throw up.

He hadn't felt this bad since he stupidly broke up with Phoebe. He hadn't eaten in two days.

His father was worried that he'd caught some parasite in the Bahamas.

Yeah, he had. And that parasite was his _wife._

A booming knock on his front door made him jump. He heard Timberly run to answer it, "Gerald!" she called upstairs, "Helga's here."

He smacked his head into his desk. Maybe if he was knocked unconscious he'd wake up in a hospital with no memory of this summer vacation.

Gerald finally stood up, holding his head and bracing himself. He hadn't directly spoken with Helga since they got back. Jamie-O had been suspicious of their silence on the boat ride back to Florida. They even made sure their seats weren't next to each other on the flight to Hillwood. Jamie-O knew something was up, but didn't approach either of them.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Hey, Helga."

His empty stomach dropped at the sight of the manila envelope in her hands. "We need to talk." She glanced at Timberly, who flashed her brace-filled smile. "In _private_."

Timberly nodded before turning on her heels, "Dad! Gerald and Helga need to talk in private!"

Helga's eyes went wide but Gerald grabbed her arm and ran her upstairs. They locked themselves in Jamie-O's room. Luckily he was working in New York again for the rest of the summer.

"Please tell me that's what I think it is."

"Annulment papers."

Gerald looked up at the ceiling, "Thank God."

"Unfortunately, Rhonda gave her lawyer my home phone. I had to tell my mother during breakfast."

"Wait, what? _Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd, _the Queen of Gossip, knows?"

Helga ripped open the envelope, glaring at Gerald. "Who else do you know who has a staff of legal advisers waiting on her every beck and call? After laughing over the phone for twenty minutes, she swore she'd never tell a soul. Apparently she's had her fair share of drunken mistakes. Not as bad as this, but. . ."

Gerald grit his teeth. _Of all people_. . .he couldn't worry about it. He was almost free. "So what do we need to do?"

"Sign these and drop them off at the courthouse. But we have to both be there."

Gerald nodded. "So what do they say? We were drunk and in another country?"

"Yeah, basically." Helga pulled a pen out of her pocket and signed her name on the dotted lines, initialing where necessary. Gerald did the same.

Both felt a great sense of relief.

"I've been avoiding calling Arnold because I was scared he would just know." Helga slid the papers back into the envelope.

Gerald rolled his eyes. "There's no way he'd be able to tell you were married by the sound of your voice."

"If I sounded guilty, he'd know something was up."

"What's there to be guilty about? We were both hammered far beyond any legal limit and stupidly got married by someone at the hotel. We kissed for like two seconds."

Helga gestured back and forth through the gap between them, "We still _kissed_."

Gerald cringed in disgust. It was _Helga. _He couldn't believe he married her, yet alone kissed her. "We just need to forget this ever happened, okay? No one else will ever need to know."

Helga shook her head no, "You're just going to lie to Phoebe?"

"It's not lying because it will_ never _come up in conversation."

"I want to tell Arnold. And you should tell Phoebe."

"Why can't you just tell them both?"

"_We_ have to tell them. If we don't the guilt will crush us until our souls are consumed with hate for each other and-"

"Geez, take a chill pill, Pataki. We'll call them later, together, okay?" Gerald massaged his temples, his headache still hurting behind his eyes.

Helga nodded. "Are you busy now or can we go take this downtown?"

Gerald nodded and followed Helga to her car. The two sat in tense and uncomfortable silence. Helga's grip on the wheel was so tight her knuckles were whiter than milk.

Gerald couldn't take the silence and turned on the radio.

"Welcome to WXRT 680, where we play your favorite pop hits from the early 2000's." The next song began playing. The piano tune and violin were soft, but Gerald couldn't recall the song. _". . . And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful, and it kills him inside. . ."_

Helga screamed and clicked the radio off. "No music. Ever."

"I can't just sit in silence! It's making me nervous!"

"You should be!" Helga snarled as downtown Hillwood's skyscrapers came into view. Not too long now.

"It was not my idea to get married to you."

Helga's voice reached an incredibly high volume that would have scared a deaf person as she screamed, "YES IT WAS!" At the next red light, the turned to face Gerald. "We were both bombed out of our minds. We should have died from alcohol poisoning or something, but we didn't. I can't remember much, but I know we were talking about that wedding we crashed. And it just escalated from there. This was _not. My. Fault._"

* * *

Arnold's roommate's name was Shawn, even if the e-mail said his name was Aldolfo. He insisted to be called Shawn. He entered the room with a very loud hello, donning a sombrero, white jacket and black sweatpants. He had only one large suitcases with him. Shawn laughed and took off the hat, exposing long curly hair, falling past his ears. "This is my drinking hat," he explained with another laugh. Arnold laughed along, still in shock over the entrance. Not many people could pull off screaming as an introduction.

Shawn Salazar had been born in Texas, but spent the last sixteen years in Buenos Aires, Argentina. "My mom is Argentinian," he added, pointing to his dark skin, "so I speak a lot of Spanish." He turned around from unpacking his suitcase, "_Habla español_?"

Arnold nodded, rocking his hand back and forth to indicate as so-so motion, "_Un poco. No soy bueno_."

Shawn shrugged, "I might slip between English and _español_, so just tell me if you can't understand."

"Okay."

Shawn unpacked the last of his things, looking at the white concrete wall beside his bed. Arnold had given him the bed along the same wall as the the door, preferring the option to be closer to gaze out the window as if he was at home.

Upon entering the suite, the door would bang into Arnold's closet. Following that wall, there was the doorway to the bathroom, the school-provided desk shoved against the wall, then Arnold's bedframe. All of the furniture was bolted to the walls and floor. Shelves were put in above the desks and beds. The room between the beds wasn't too small, maybe a good six feet, but he knew it would get cramped in here eventually. Arnold had been so used to such a large room his entire life.

Shawn held his fingers against his chin, striking a thoughtful pose, "I should've brought something to cover up the walls. Or more pictures or something." He sighed and collapsed on his half-made bed, pointing to the open bathroom door. "Who are the other guys?"

"They move in in like three weeks, when class starts."

Shawn sat up, "So what do you do during the day here?"

"I'm on the baseball team, so I practice all day."

He laughed. "Wow, I don't know if that sucks or is impressive."

Arnold laughed along, agreeing, "It sucks."

"They sent me here early cause I'm an 'international student'," Shawn added the air quotes. "This is my dad's alma mater. He's been telling me about this place since I was four, I know it like the back of my hand."

"That's good. It took me a while to figure things out. . . .I think I was more overwhelmed than anything."

"Yeah, but just wait until classes start. Then you'll really feel it." Shawn stood up and started walking around, "Sorry I've just been in a plane and a car and I really feel the need to move."

"Come on, let's go grab some dinner. There's a diner down the street that stays open 24 hours. D-Hall closes at 8."

Shawn glanced at his watch, "8:15." Arnold stood up and stretched his body, arms going high over his head. He couldn't help but groan at the sound his right shoulder made when it popped.

Shawn's hazel eyes went wide, "Shit, you okay?"

"No, that's normal. I'd be worried if it didn't make a noise." Arnold checked his pockets for his wallet, phone and keys, an old habit he was glad he had. Shawn did the same.

The two walked down the hallway and the two flights of stairs in silence. The fact of the matter was finally settling in: the boys didn't know each other at all. The school had not given them a chance to communicate at all, not even offering an e-mail address so they could exchange greetings.

"So where are you from, Arnold?"

"Hillwood, it's a city in-"

"Oh, I've heard of that place." Shawn bit his lip, why did it sound so familiar? "Yeah, my political science class talked about it 'cause it was in the news a lot. We had some crazy debates about it. I mean, gay marriage was declared legal in Argentina in 2009, and some kids were really shocked to hear about that kid."

"Yeah. We all were shocked."

"Did you know him. . .the kid who died?"

"Knew everyone involved. Lucas, Eugene, Harrison. It's still a pretty big deal back home."

"Wow. I'm sorry."

Arnold smiled, "It'll be okay, though. Eventually. Something's always happening in Hillwood."

"Oh, I like the sound of that." The two finally reached the diner. It was mostly filled with college students, and a few families with older children. The booths were covered in teal plastic and squeaked when you moved. The wood tables were always sticky, and everyone who worked there looked like they had been for their entire lives. The waitresses were older women who were experienced dealing with drunk or stoned teens.

Shawn inhaled the stench of greasy food frying on the grill. "Oh, America, I've missed you." The two took a booth in the corner.

"So, tell me more about yourself."

Shawn laughed, "This isn't an internet dating profile. No offense man, but I don't swing that way."

"Neither do I," Arnold shook his head. "I have a girlfriend of almost three years back home."

"That's spicy," Shawn replied. Arnold smirked. He could tell that this guy was going to be fun.

"I just figured if we're gonna live together, we should know at least something, right?" Shawn nodded just as the waitress appeared. They both ordered their drinks and food. Arnold had already eaten with the team, but still craved french fries. Of course, he preferred Slausen's fries, but he wouldn't get those for weeks.

"Well, if you must know, I have three sisters. Two older, one younger. And there's my parents. And two cats, Fernando and Isabella. Named after the two Spanish monarchs."

"That must have been hard growing up with all sisters, right?"

"Yeah. They were real _putas_ half the time. But I love them, blah blah blah. You got any siblings?"

"No. Just me and my parents. They had been out of the picture for most of my life, so my grandparents raised me."

"That's pretty cool. I bet your grandparents were super chill, right?"

Arnold started laughing so hard he choked on air. "No. Not even close. My grandma was insane, but in the best way possible. She mixed up holidays and always dressed up in costume. I hardly ever heard her call my own name. And my grandpa. . .well he was crazy enough to love her."

"That's sweet." Shawn laughed and sipped his drink, "So what about your parents, if you don't mind me asking?"

"They were both doctors, my dad was an anthropologist and my mom studied botany. They travled to San Lorenzo, where they met, fell in love, all that stuff. When I was two, they had to go back to help save a local tribe, the Green Eyes. They ended up getting lost. Their plane was never found, but the people managed to save them from the wreck."

"Wow, what happened?"

"Their plane started malfunctioning. Something about the wing or motor, I forget. They crashed into the river and the plane was sunk and carried down the current."

"Oh. That's good that they survived."

"Yeah, and they had no way of contacting anyone so they were stuck. They helped the Green Eyes and lived with them as members of their tribe. My friends and I actually went to search for them after my grandparents passed away."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

An awkward silence settled in as the waitress lowered their plates of food. It was silent for five more minutes after that, while Shawn tore into his burger and basket of onion rings.

He swallowed everything back with a large gulp of Coke. "What's your girlfriend like?"

Arnold stopped doodling with his fries in his blob of ketchup, "Is it stupid to say that Helga's the most amazing person I've ever met?"

"You can't help it. Love is love and when you feel it you sound like an idiot."

Arnold pointed his fry at his roommate, "You have got to be the chillest guy I've ever met. You remind me a lot of my best friend, Gerald. Except he has his fair share of freak out moments."

"I don't freak out. I don't even get surprised or scared. I've been mistaken for a stoner by many adults." Arnold raised his eyebrows, "And don't worry, I don't smoke. I'd rather kill my liver than my throat."

Arnold laughed, "Sounds like a good life plan."

The two continued their late dinner with more laughs and stories. Shawn described Buenos Aires and compared it to the two places he'd seen in America. Austin Texas and the SC campus. He said Buenos Aires had more history, and beautiful architecture and a nice view of the sea. Arnold could tell Shawn would be homesick soon.

The roommates talked about friends back home, high school, their interests in tv, music, movies. Shawn was big into horror. Arnold had reluctantly gotten into the horror movie scene after dating Helga. They talked about their favorite sports to play and watch. Neither really seemed to enjoy football as much as soccer and baseball, respectively.

"Did you play soccer for your high school?"

"No way man. School sports teams make me nervous. They're all 'Go Fight Win!' 'Destroy the enemy' and it's all creepy in the same uniforms. I stick to impromptu backyard sports. No uniforms, no refs, no rules."

After they paid and walked back to their dorm, Arnold realized what time it was. He immediately pulled his shirt off and turned around beside his bed, trying to remember exactly which drawer he put his nicer clothes in.

Shawn pointed to Arnold's reflection in the bathroom mirror, "Woah, dude, sick tat! And scar! Damn, you're much more of a badass than I thought."

"Thanks? I'll tell you the story of how I got it later," Arnold pulled on his salmon shorts, that Gerald insisted he bought to fit the 'frat boy style.' Whatever that meant. "But now I have to go out and meet my teammates. We're going to a party. You're welcome to come along."

Shawn started laughing, "No thanks. Besides, I doubt your baseball boys could handle partying with me." Shawn pointed to his hat.

Arnold laughed as he folded up his dirty shirt and put it in his hamper in the closet. He turned around, but stopped when there was a knock at the door. Shawn opened it slightly and peered out to see five men in red and black hoods and all black gowns, similar to the ones worn at graduation. "_Joder_," he muttered before opening the door wider. "Uh. . .Arnold?"

Arnold froze, shirtless and scared.

Four of the guys rushed in, shoving Shawn onto his bed, picked Arnold up and lifted him over their heads. "What is going on?" Arnold tried to break free from their grip, but his limbs were being held very tightly.

"Just relax," the fifth man said, turning to face the occupied bed, "We'll bring him back later."

Shawn shook his head back and forth, "I'm not his babysitter. Just be quiet when you come in."

The guys pushed Arnold against the wall inside the staircase and blindfolded him. They also gagged his mouth, which didn't help him relax. Arnold was really disoriented. The group was walking, but he had no idea where. He still didn't know the area well enough.

After what felt like an hour, it could've been ten minutes, Arnold wasn't sure, his feet were returned to the ground. He knew they were in some sort of basement. It was very cold, damp, musky, and they had to walk down a flight of stairs.

There was a sudden rush of the blindfold being whipped off. Arnold jumped in surprise, feeling others back into him. There were twelve other freshman who joined the team. And Arnold knew they were all here for one reason.

The room was dark and a voice came from the shadows, "Welcome, recruited freshman, to your weekend from Hell. This is your final bit of the initiation process before we can accept you on the team and give you your official Gamecocks jerseys," Logan removed his mask and stepped under the low hanging light, turing it on. It rocked back and forth under his movements, casting the glow of the lightbulb on the other masked figures. All fellow baseball players. There were twenty-one older guys surrounding the circle of thirteen.

"Tonight we are throwing a party for returning students. We throw this party every year, and it tends to gets wild. You will be required to clean up after the party, serve drinks, watch the door, and of course, listen to everything we say. If we say jump, you will do it. No hesitation, back talk, or questions. Understood?"

"Yes," the freshmen replied.

"Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You will be spending the entire weekend here, with no contact to the outside. Hand over your cell phones." Arnold recognized the player taking their phones, Patrick. He had the darkest skin on the team. Patrick was #39, another pitcher. The team had 16 pitchers on the roster.

"What you're wearing now will be your attire for the party. We have spare clothes for you to change in after."

Arnold bit his lip. He didn't have a shirt on. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable in his body, baseball kept him in great shape, but he could just hear Helga screaming in his head. He wasn't going to lie, he had seen some very attractive girls on campus. And chances are they'd be at this party.

He had no idea if the team would make him drink, but if they did, he had no idea what he was capable of. He'd only gotten seriously drunk twice in his life. Both times with Gerald and in the safety of his home. Not in front of anyone who would judge him for what he said or did.

"We have to go finish preparing for the party. Enjoy your wait here." Logan nodded and the sophomores, juniors and two other seniors all left the basement.

Then the light was shut off.

* * *

**A/N:** I got the first names, positions and numbers for all the baseball players from the real South Carolina Gamecocks roster, but I chose not to describe their real faces.

Also, ~OH MY GODD SO MUCH DRAMA HAPPENING I'M SO EXCITED AND ALSO REALLY SORRY IF YOU'RE CONFUSED/MAD


	2. Hazed and Confused

**A/N: ** It's not customary in Argentinian culture to wear a sombrero. It's mostly a Mexican tradition. I don't want to disrespect any cultures. I didn't realize my mistake until yalale23 pointed it out. So now I will add in Shawn's story of how he ended up with a sombrero in another chapter.

* * *

**Love is Like A Baseball Bat - The College Years**

_Chapter Two: Hazed and Confused_

* * *

Helga had been kept waiting for four hours in the lobby of City Hall. Gerald had been playing games on his phone, texting Phoebe_ like nothing was going on,_ and napping.

Helga had been holding onto the envelope so long she had very thin paper cuts in the wrinkles of her palms.

When someone of higher jurisdiction was finally able to see Helga and Gerald, it was nothing like she expected. Judge Watson seemed to young to be a judge. He looked to be in his early forties and he still had all of his brunette curls. Weren't most judges old, wrinkled and bitter?

His voice reminded Helga of an over-enthusiastic tv host, "What can I do for you today?"

"We need our marriage to be declared null and void," Helga handed over the papers. His gray eyes looked over the forms, flipping to the next page every few seconds.

"Oh, I see, the marriage was performed in the Bahamas. And you were given a marriage certificate?"

"It's in the file." Helga crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm pretty sure it's not even real."

Gerald nodded along, still staying silent. After Helga had screamed at him in the car, he wasn't much up for talking to her.

The judge pulled it out and laughed, "This may be legal by Bahamian standars, but this is not according to U.S. Law." Helga and Gerald both heaved another sigh of relief.

They weren't even married. Not even close.

Judge Watson stamped the papers with a red-ink covered rubber stamp declaring everything NULL & VOID. "Sorry for making you wait. Have a good day."

Helga couldn't help but dance in front of her car as she unlocked it. She was feeling good for the first time in almost three days.

Gerald buckled his seat belt and smiled at Helga, "Wanna stop at Slausen's? I haven't eaten since we got back."

"It better be your treat, Geraldo. After putting me through this horrific scenario, you owe me."

"Fine. Just drive, _honey_."

The Ol' Betsy punched Gerald's shoulder.

"So when are we going to tell them?"

Helga tensed, "Soon. How about Tuesday, after work?"

"Why not Monday?"

"Mondays are the worst day of the week, do you want to make it even more awful?"

Gerald sighed, "I guess you're right. Tuesday it is."

* * *

Arnold would know that sound from anywhere, the unmissable hollow bounce of a ping pong ball on uncarpeted floor.

His eyes had adjusted to the dark. None of the players had moved from their back-to-back circle, so Arnold had been staring at the same shadowed spot for almost forty minutes. Music had been playing and the floor above them shook.

Flashing lights and loud sounds suddenly flooded into the basement, followed by the three seniors: Logan, Michael (#29, pitcher) and Adam (#26, outfield).

"Tonight we'd like to welcome you to college," Logan's voice was strained from shouting over the music.

"Just remember what we talked about earlier," Michael added as Adam began leading the kids upstairs.

As soon as Arnold made it to the ground floor, he felt nails dig into his back and pull him aside.

"Aww, look, the freshman's so cute," a girl in high-waisted jean shorts and a neon yellow tank top smiled. Her black hair fell in her face and down most of her body.

Arnold said nothing, but watched the group of six girls surround him, shaking up paint-filled pens. "Don't move." Arnold shut his eyes at the contact of the paint pens to his skin. It was cold.

Another girl's nails dug into his chest and he heard her laugh, "What a cute tattoo."

Was _everything_ cute to them?

He felt her wrist against his skin as she drew around the poem lines. He had no idea what kind of paint this was, how long it'd take for him to dry, or if he'd die from so much on his skin.

After standing in the doorway of the basement with girls drawing all over him for twenty minutes, they finally stopped. The girls had covered his entire upper body, neck and forehead with doodles. Of what, Arnold didn't know. He was too afraid to look, really. They could be vulgar, or. . _.cute._

"Save me a dance, loverboy!" Neon Yellow Tanktop winked and high-fived Michael before disappearing into the living room. The main hallway was full of long beer pong tables decorated with Gamecocks colors and their team mascot: Cocky, the fighting rooster.

Michael handed Arnold a red Solo cup. "Cheers to college, kid."

Arnold looked hesitantly at the cup, only to feel his suspicions confirmed. The team had cut a small hole in the bottom of the cup. Arnold smiled at his teammate, "Thanks."

"You gotta loosen up. This is the only time you'll have to do this. I mean, it's not like we're telling you all to_ JUMP_ or anything."

Arnold grit his teeth and jumped into the air.

Everyone laughed at the thirteen "kiddies," as they were being referred to. As if this wasn't humiliating enough.

Arnold walked into the kitchen, where the keg was. He watched Kyle pump the beer for everyone. He smiled at the ladies, even if it earned him a glare from their dates. Arnold sighed and held his cup forward, attaching his finger through the hole. Kyle nodded and began filling.

"How you holdin' up?"

"I'd rather be doing this than be you," Kyle pointed to Arnold's body.

"I haven't really looked yet, is it bad?"

Kyle pointed to Arnold's bellybutton, "LICK MY NAVEL."

"Wonderful."

"Lighten up and get drunk. We're here for the weekend, might as well drink all their expensive alcohol."

"Time for the kiddies to do SHOTS!"

Arnold didn't know who screamed it, but he followed Kyle into the living room. A beer pong table was set up with twenty-six shot glasses, clear ones on the left and dark colored ones resting on pint glasses on the right side.

"On your knees, boys." Logan stood on the couch, smirking down at them. All of the other party goers started cheering. Arnold could see Neon Yellow from the other side of the room. She winked.

"First up is something a little tame for you babes, Absolut. Followed by my personal favorite, Jägerbombs." The room continued to cheer, but Logan silenced them with a wave. "Oh, before I forget, keep your hands down."

Kyle was first. He was pretty tall and managed to wrap his lips around the shot glass easily, tipping it back with almost no effort. He coughed violently before taking the glass out of his mouth. Everyone else imitated Kyle's movements, but some were less coordinated.

Once Arnold got the taste of pure alcohol out of his mouth, he was already feeling something warm in his stomach. He hadn't eaten very much that day. It felt good, especially since the house was kept incredibly cold and he was shirtless.

The kiddies got around to the other side of the table. "This time you can use your hands," Logan smiled. "Go!"

Everyone dropped their shots of Jäger into the pint of Red Bull and chugged. Arnold was the first to finish.

"Woah, Arnold! You're a pro! I think this kid needs some _Dr Pepper_!"

The other party goers began hollering as Arnold shook his head. Dr. Pepper? Why would he need a chaser now?

Tanner - #19, junior, infield - picked Arnold up and walked him to the kitchen. Tanner began pulling out different bottles of alcohol and poured them into the shot. He did this slowly, as if it was an art he needed to perfect. He then whipped out a pint glass and filled it with beer from the keg.

Arnold watched in awe as Tanner flicked his lighter on top of the shot, causing it to burst into flame. "Drop it in the beer and chug," Tanner instructed as he pulled out his cell phone.

Arnold sighed. This was going to kill him. He dropped it in and waited for the flames to go out before chugging it. It tasted similar to the Dr. Pepper soda, although the burn of alcohol killed that taste shortly after.

Arnold stood at the counter, his hands beginning to grow incredibly warm. He drank_ a lot_ of alcohol in the span of ten minutes.

The music seemed to get louder and everyone crowded around the living room to dance. The shot table was removed and kids were grinding like it was any ol' club. Flashing lights kept Arnold's attention for a few minutes, he watched them spin around the darkened room.

He felt good. For the first time in a long time his side felt okay and he felt relaxed.

Logan came up and slapped him on the back. The sound of skin-on-skin contact was louder than the pain Arnold felt. "How you holding up?"

Arnold nodded, "Good. Yeah, I feel really. . .good."

"Well, just wait until you feel great!"

One of the girls who drew on him pulled him onto the dance floor. Arnold's natural rhythm took over and he danced in the mob for what seemed like hours. It had only been one, but that had been enough time for the other freshman to get bombed.

"Arnold's the most sober," Kyle said, words slurring as he pointed his finger to the dance floor.

Logan laughed, "Somebody get this kid a Blow Job!"

Arnold turned around, eyes wide, "_What?_"

Neon Yellow Tank Top grinned, "It's a drink. Trust me, it taste better than an Orgasm."

Arnold's head was spinning now, "What?"

Tanner's hand latched around his bicep and dragged him off the dance floor. Tanner, although a little buzzed, managed to do his traditional tricks: spinning the bottles of alcohol, catching them behind his back without dropping them.

Arnold felt as if this was an out of body experience. He was talking, he just didn't know what he was really saying. "Why are you so good at this?"

"I'm a bartender." Arnold watched as Tanner poured Bailey's Irish Cream and Kahúla, the coffe-flavored rum-based liqueur, into a shot glass before topping it off with a spot of whipped cream. He downed the shot quickly, grinning when Tanner made him another. He was three Blow Jobs in when Logan dragged him back to the dance floor.

"I'm Katie," the girl who'd been around him all night finally smiled.

"Arnold."

"You have a little whipped cream-" Katie slowly leaned forwards, kissing the whipped cream off of Arnold's upper lip.

His head was spinning faster now, bells and whistles firing off in his mind.

He forcefully nudged her off, "No, stop, Katie, _please_." He pointed to his tattoo, which had been surrounded by hearts, "I have a girlfriend."

Katie nodded in understanding, "Sorry. . .I'll see you around." She turned to the room, jumping up on the couch and screamed, "I need a drink!"

Arnold fell against the wall he didn't know he was leaning on.

"I've never seen someone that drunk say no." Logan laughed, "Wait, correction: I've never seen a _guy_ that drunk say no."

"I already fucked things up with her once, I don't wanna do that again." His mouth was moving faster than his mind. He still felt pretty dizzy.

"Let's get you some water, Arnold."

Logan handed Arnold a cup. He was too drunk to realize that it wasn't water in the cup.

Arnold gulped back much more than he should have, feeling his stomach tighten and spew out whatever was in the cup. Vodka. They'd given him _Vodka_. The other baseball guys were screaming in laughter, doubled over their knees and spilling beer. Arnold shook his head and ran to the bathroom. And he puked.

That only encouraged the baseball team to get him to drink more.

And that's where his memory stopped.

**H-A!-H-A!**

An air horn.

Those bastards woke them up with an air horn.

The freshman had been carried, or tossed, downstairs to sleep around three a.m. They passed out wherever they could. The basement wasn't as big as it seemed.

Logan woke them up at 8 a.m. with the loudest air horn Arnold had ever heard. "Rise and shine, assholes! It's time to clean up!" With a very heavy head and throbbing pain in his side, head and back, Arnold rose to his feet.

He could hear Phoebe's lecture on the dangers of alcohol consumption in a quiet voice in the back of his head, "Alcohol dehydrates the body. That causes hangovers. You should always drink water before going to sleep."

The boys all moved slowly up the stairs, careful not to make any loud noises. A few of the boys woke up still drunk and managed to trip up the stairs. Upon entering the hallway, a bright light was flashed into their eyes. Everyone moaned and held their heads, blinking as they made their way into the kitchen.

"Fucking assholes," Kyle muttered.

Arnold had never felt worse in his entire life. He was pretty sure getting stabbed felt like a nice cheerful walk in the park compared to this. Sleeping on the floor with no blanket, pillow or anything except cement definitely didn't help. He felt incredibly stiff and moving too much made the extra weight in his head burn.

"Clean up the floors, throw out the cups, do the dishes and then you can shower."

The idea of a shower sounded like Heaven. Hot water soothing the aches and pains as well as quiet time to think about what the hell happened last night.

It took an hour to mop the floor. Beer was very sticky when dried. There had to be at least two hundred cups littering the ground. Kyle took to cleaning the shot and pint glasses. He had been forced to wear a very frilly apron and rubber gloves, but he said he'd rather take the humiliation than scrub vomit covered toilets.

Someone had broken the third story window. Door knobs had gone missing. A fake plant had been turned over in the living room. Every spot in the house looked like a tornado had torn through it.

By 11 a.m., everything was cleaned up.

"A player will escort you to your dorm to shower. Don't talk to anyone and do not change into new clothes. Come straight back here."

Upon retuning to his room, Arnold was greeted with boisterous laughter. Shawn was sitting on his bed, laptop resting beside him. He jumped up and spun Arnold around, cracking up at every new drawing he saw.

The girls had painted a unicorn puking rainbows on his back, as well as written the list of actors that 'Arnold would fuck', and flowers. The girls really liked flowers. On his front, they painted an exaggerated outline of his abs, hearts, and written things like "lick my navel", "kiss my neck", "feel my bicep." They outlined his scar in red, making it look like he was bleeding. And on his forehead they'd written genius, only misspelling it to make a point.

Shawn took pictures, "I am so mad I missed this."

Tanner had escorted Arnold to his dorm and smiled at Shawn, pulling out his phone to reveal videos from the night. The two laughed at what Arnold had done while he showered.

He couldn't wait for this weekend to be over.

Arnold's shower took three times as long because he had to remove the Sharpie Paint Pens. Tanner assured him they were water based and not oil, so they wouldn't really hurt him.

Everyone returned to the house, only to see that a bar-be-que was set up and underway. Logan was grilling, since it was his house and he knew Adam would try to start a fire.

Arnold's stomach was growling but he really didn't feel up to eating. Instead he made it his mission to drink as much water as possible.

The Gamecocks Baseball team hung out, telling stories about horrible teachers, friends, fights, and girls. It was a nice bonding experience, and a suitable apology for everything they'd been put through last night.

"How did you guys manage to swing coach to let up on practice this weekend?"

"We have to start sharing the field with softball until their new one's re-grassed. So we _selflessly_ sacrificed three days to allow our fellow Gamecocks to practice." The upperclassmen were in hysterics over Logan's explanation.

After the sun set, everyone gathered in the living room to watch a major league baseball game. Beers were passed around and jokes were shared about rooting for the Tampa Bay Rays or the New York Yankees.

It wasn't until midnight when Arnold realized something was up. Logan had been uncharacteristically quiet post-game, until Patrick shoved his shoulder.

"Hey, kiddos, we need something from you." The thirteen freshman perked up in their seats. "The first one to sprint to the supermarket and make it back here with my favorite candy wins."

The supermarket Logan referred to was all the way across campus. You'd have to take a left at the farthest building, run down two more streets and then up a small hill to get to the side entrance.

On the walk back to Logan's house, Tanner had given Arnold directions before tossing out a not-so-subtle hint about how to win this challenge. "My player did the same for me," Tanner explained, "and it helped me win. We became best friends after that. . . .I just thought I'd share the same valuable information, even though I know everyone else is doing the same thing."

Arnold held his hand out, gripping Tanner's tightly in a shake. "Thanks, man. I won't let you down."

Now Arnold was leading the pack towards the supermarket.

Thinking quickly, he dove through bushes and hid for a moment on the edge of campus. The other teammates split up, some going to the right and others to the left. Arnold caught his breath before standing up and sprinting. He caught up to the other group who took a left, but quietly passed around them by ducking behind cars before jumping out in front of them.

There were only six other players following behind Arnold.

He had no idea why he was the fastest. He had lost sprinting during practice many times. It must have been his desire to win for Tanner.

Upon making it up the hill and through the automatic door, Arnold ran to the front, "I'm sorry about the noise that's coming," he panted while tossing his wallet and the candy onto the counter.

The blonde cashier smirked, "Oh, it's that time of the year already?" She looked to be younger than Arnold, maybe a junior in high school. "My dad owns this place," she explained while ringing up Arnold's candy. "And i've worked here for like five years. During the beginning of every semester, all kinds of kids come running in here, looking for something."

Arnold slid his credit card through the machine, smiling at the girl. He was still panting incredibly hard. She handed back his receipt and tossed his candy into a bag before waving, "Good luck!"

"Thanks!" Arnold shouted as he left through the front door.

Since there were only thirteen freshman, the ten oldest juniors and the three seniors became the freshman's "mentors." It was a tradition that started quite a long time ago. It was similar to a fraternity, only there were no secret handshakes or pledging whatever.

Arnold burst through the front door, smiling despite the fact he was breathless and could possibly puke at any moment. Tanner and Logan cheered. "I believe you requested a king sized Kit Kat?"

Logan leaned back in his chair, thoroughly impressed. "Way to go Shortman."

"Thanks."

A few of the sophomores and juniors rose to leave, "We're gonna head on home, some of us have dorms that lock after 1."

The guys began to come back, one by one, with different types of candy. A few had the right idea, but most were off. Logan accepted the candy regardless, then guided everyone to the basement. "Sleep tight little ones. We'll wake you up bright and early tomorrow."

**H-A!-H-A!**

Arnold rolled over, only to find Kyle's arm hooked around his waist. Both boy screamed and backed away, waking up the entire room in the process.

Logan came down a few minutes later, this time with a megaphone. "Good morning, douchebags! It's time to wake up and wash our cars!"

Kyle kicked Arnold's leg once more for good measure, "Is he allowed to do this?"

"If no one in power finds out."

The teens all stood up and marched outside.

Logan held a bag full of old bathing suits for the guys. They were all grateful not to have to wash cars in their clothes, although that would clean them. "But, wait, I'm not done."

Michael handed him another bag. Of bikini tops. "Get cleaning,_ ladies._"

"I have never been this humiliated before," Kyle sighed as he dunked a sponge into a half-filled bucket.

Arnold nodded, clearly remembering a few times when he'd felt humiliated. 'Bunny Pajama Boy' was definitely running on the top of the list. This was a close second. Maybe. But, there was the time he and Helga. . .Nope. Not reliving that.

"Dude, are you blushing?"

Arnold turned his head away from Kyle, laughing, "No way man."

They finished Logan's car quickly, moving onto the others with just as much speed. The last thing they wanted was anyone-

"Oh, my god, Arnold!"

_Fuck._

Shawn had received a video message from Tanner, strongly encouraging him to come watch his roommate wash cars in a bikini.

"I love college," Shawn replied before raising his camera to capture the cross-dressed kids by the car. Shawn had taken a few photography classes in high school, nothing serious really, he just like taking pictures of his family, but this was one modeling shoot he was not passing up.

"I will model if you get me drunk enough," a teammate joked.

Cue the other Gamecocks passing around bottles of Jack Daniels and Jäger, sipping before washing more of the car. By the time the third car was done, the kids were drunk. Arnold had been hesitant, but after watching the football team walk by and jokingly cheer, he needed something to take the edge off.

After the fourth car was clean, the guys began a water fight against their teammates. Kyle finished off the end of the Jack before running towards the house with a bucket of dirty sudsy water. "This is for you Logan!"

Logan sighed and held his hands up in defeat, "I deserve this!"

Kyle screamed like Tarzan before running back outside. "Our leader has been overthrown! Mutiny, men!" The freshmen cheered, threw off their bikinis and continued splashing water around. Tanner watched from the safety of the second story balcony, video camera in hand for the entire thing. He laughed as Michael was pulled under the hose, his face throughly cleaned with extreme pressure.

Arnold laughed as he dodged another bucket of dirty sponges being thrown at him. The rest of the team was in hysterics. Arnold couldn't believe he was drunk during a Sunday afternoon, playing around with his teammates like they were ten years old. It was a great experience.

He had to agree with Shawn.

He loved college.


	3. The Telling

**Love is Like A Baseball Bat - The College Years**

_Chapter Three: The Telling_

* * *

_**August 6th, 2011**_

It was _The_ Tuesday.

Gerald had called Helga at least thirty times, but received no response. He really didn't want to tell Phoebe, especially not after what happened in her dorm room last week.

The e-mail she had sent was a warning, an alert, really. If something dangerous happened, someone would need to contact her parents. A young man had broke into the college dorm room with a loaded gun. Phoebe had been in her room, but the door was open, her bed in sight of the doorway. She heard a muffled shout and dove forwards to close her door. She texted her group of friends, warning them something was wrong and to avoid the dorm while she dialed the campus police.

The situation escalated to a hostage-negociation and all Phoebe could do was sit behind her door and try not to have a panic attack. She still remembered suffering when John tried to attack Deidrek, but she had been in the room with Gerald, Arnold and Helga. She felt safe with them around.

After a few hours of a constant state of alert, the police stormed the building and tazed the gang member. The college went on high security alert and everyone stayed tense.

So this really was the last thing Phoebe needed. But it had been and hour and Helga hadn't responded. So he took it upon himself to tell his very lovely and wonderful girlfriend what happened on vacation over a video chat.

Her response was unexpected.

She smiled, shaking her head, "I'm not mad."

Gerald slammed his hand onto his desk, "Phoebe, now is not the time to be noble. I married your best friend!"

"While _intoxicated_. I just got off the phone with Helga. She told me you two were so drunk you couldn't even stand at the altar. I promise you, I am not mad. Helga has expressed to me her opinions of you through the years, and she's really not a fan." Phoebe laughed. "All I want to know is how the idea of you two getting married came up." Phoebe's tone wasn't upset, just curious.

Gerald sighed, "Let me pull Helga up so you can hear it all once again."

Helga's computer beeped with that obnoxious Skype tone.

VIDEO CHAT WITH: **geraldj33** and **ph-8**

"Shit." Helga closed her eyes as she clicked accept. She had already talked to Phoebe, but she had no idea if Gerald had coaxed her into tears or screams or what.

"Open your eyes, _darling_."

Her fists clenched against her mousepad, "I swear to God, Gerald if you don't stop with that-"

"Have you guys told Arnold yet?" Phoebe's question made Helga's skin blanch.

Gerald shook his head, "We're trying to ease him into it. And if you know, you'll be able to provide a rational explanation so he doesn't try to beat me within an inch of my life."

"And, I'm telling you this now so you don't get upset later," Helga rocked back in her chair, eyes directed at the ceiling, "We kissed."

"You kissed?" Phoebe repeated, shocked.

"For like one second. Not even. It's just the minister wouldn't let us leave without doing it. It was totally-"

"Unemotional. Uninvolved. It was like kissing my mom."

Phoebe became still, her laptop rocking on her dorm bed as she readjusted her position, pulling her knees to her chest so she could rest her chin on them. "I. . .I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Believe me, I vomited at the thought the next day," Helga kept her eyes away from her camera, knowing that Phoebe was definitely hurt at that. She couldn't bare to look at her face. Helga was such a bad person, a true best friend betrayer.

"Yeah. Right on me."

Helga sneered, "In sickness and in health, dickwad."

"Can you please_ stop_ with the marriage jokes?" Now that was the angry tone the ex-spouses were expecting. Phoebe's cheeks were red, lips in a tight frown.

Helga bit her lip, looking at her best friend's eyes through the computer screen. "Joking is how we're dealing with this. This entire this feels like one big horrible punchline. You have to understand we didn't mean to hurt you." Helga could see tears brimming behind her glasses, "_Phoebe, _you know that I feel nothing beyond detest for Gerald and never will stop hating him."

Gerald's neck rolled around against the back of his desk chair. He'd been carrying so much stress in his neck after this fiasco. "I agree."

Phoebe nodded, knowing that Helga felt nothing for him. She had been hopelessly, desperately in love with Arnold for her entire life and no one -_especially not Gerald_ - would change that. "I think I would feel better if Arnold were in this conversation. Then we'd be able to discuss things. I'm feeling a little. . .attacked."

And it was as if the Gods themselves agreed, because at that moment Arnold signed onto Skype.

"Fucking A," Helga hissed as Gerald clicked a video chat request.

Arnold smiled brightly at his laptop's camera. The computer had been graduation gift from his parents. He was happy to get rid of the old desktop. "Hey, guys! It's so great to see you. I had the funniest weekend, you'll never believe-" It was silent on the other end of his laptop. "You guys are acting like-" Arnold's eyes grew wide, "Oh my, God, what's _wrong_?"

Phoebe looked into the camera lens, "Helga and Gerald have some interesting news, Arnold."

"I don't like the sound of that."

Helga covered her head in her hands, speaking to her palms quietly. Arnold couldn't hear her. "What?"

"While Gerald and I were in the Bahamas last week, we. . ." tears were brimming in her eyes. She really couldn't believe this happened. She had no idea how Arnold would react. She had hoped it would be like Phoebe. Taking it calmly and rationally, even though she was feeling hurt.

Helga hung her head in shame, speaking loudly into the mike, "we got married."

Arnold laughed. He laughed until his sides stung and tears fell from his eyes. "That's the funniest thing I've heard in a long time."

"Arnold," Gerald's voice was low, "it's not a joke."

The smile disappeared.

The emotion that boiled in the pit of his stomach was anger. It radiated throughout his body, shocking him with heat burning under his skin and a scowl at the computer screen. He so badly wanted to break something.

Gerald began explaining, "We were drunk."

"Fucked out of our minds," Helga corrected. Arnold said nothing. "It's been annulled and taken care of. We are not married and were only, _technically,_married for seventy-two hours under Bahamian law."

"Almost as long as Kim Kardashian," Gerald joked.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Silence fell upon the three other teens.

Arnold was breathing hard. He had never been this mad before. He knew the profanity was a little overkill, but at the moment he needed to say it. This wasn't a time for _jokes._ He thought he had been mad at Big Bob when he tried to take Helga away, but this crossed the line beyond normal anger. This was downright outrage.

How could they do this to him? To Phoebe? He had never felt more betrayed by two people whom he loved.

He couldn't explain why this hurt him so much. The marriage was annulled, it no longer existed, it didn't really happen. He figured his reaction would've been normal if they were still married.

But they weren't.

So why did he still feel like throwing his laptop at the wall?

"Can you please tell us how this whole ordeal came up?" Phoebe finally asked, breaking the tense silent that had settled in.

"Jamie-O's boss needed him to take the yacht to the Bahamas to pick him up and help with business. Jamie-O invited me, and told me I could bring a friend so I wouldn't be bored while he worked. And I invited Helga to come along. . . ."

* * *

Helga's phone rang with a text. She had hoped it was Arnold, but once glance at the screen and she groaned.

**GERALD:** JAMIE-O IS TAKING A YACHT TO THE BAHAMAS. YOU IN?

Helga, instead of texting back, hit 'Call.' Gerald picked up, "Yes?"

She scoffed, "A cruise to the Bahamas, are you kidding me?"

"You and I both know we're miserable and moping. A little vacation would be good. We wouldn't even have to spend any time together after we stepped off the boat."

Helga nodded, that sounded like an excellent plan. "Do I have to pay for this or what?"

"As if. Anything we buy will be a company expense. And the legal drinking age is 18."

That sparked more interest. "Maybe." She groaned, "There's no way Miriam or Olga would let me go to the Bahamas. Trust me, if I need a passport to get there, Olga would deem it dangerous."

"I really don't want to go alone, Helga. I'll have no one to talk to on the flight or the boat. Can't you just lie to them?"

"You're really whiny, Hair Boy. How does Phoebe even put up with you?" She sighed, "But if it means that much to you, I will tell them I'm. . .driving to see Arnold or something. Just e-mail me the flight details. Where are we even going, anyway?"

"Tampa is where the yacht is docked. It's at his summer home. We fly in the morning, get in the early afternoon and sail all day and through the night. We'll be in the Bahamas for four days before turning back."

"Sounds like a plan. What hotel are we parking at?"

"Atlantis, apparently. It's a classy place, so pack accordingly."

Helga grumbled but agreed. "I'll text you if I can actually go." She pulled up the hotel's website on her laptop before going downstairs.

* * *

"I felt awful lying to Miriam," Helga confessed. "But you guys know how Olga is. If she set her mind to ruling the US, she could persuade Obama to step down."

Phoebe nodded, listening intently.

Arnold still remained silent, clearly waiting for the real details of the story to unfold.

Gerald picked up where Helga left off, "We met up outside her place so she could drive us to the airport. It worked with her lie that she was driving. . ."

* * *

After parking and making their way through security and customs, the three sat beside each other on the plane.

"This is gonna be fun," Gerald promised as he looked out the window. Helga had been forced to sit in between the two Johannsen boys, considering she had the smallest legs.

"I hope so." She sighed. It felt weird traveling without Arnold. She had left him a message saying she would be gone with Gerald. She promised to be careful and not do anything stupid, like getting arrested or swim in the ocean. She still really missed him and was counting down the days until August 16th.

23 more days.

The flight to Florida took about three hours and the drive to the owner's house only took about half an hour. Jamie-O had followed the directions from his boss exactly, not wanting to risk screwing up a job like this.

"The captain will be meeting us at the house. Do not touch anything," Jamie-O hissed as he pulled into the long brick driveway. Helga stared at the size of the mansion. It had to be the biggest beach house she'd ever seen! The house had to be at least four stories, the doorway was up twenty very steep brick steps. The front of the house was mostly tinted glass.

"We're not going inside. Come on, go around to the boat." Jamie-O tugged Gerald's collar and guided him between the large hedges hiding a metal fence.

"Wow, that is one big boat." Gerald whistled.

"Can this guy adopt me?" Helga gasped, looking at the back of the house. A large bay window sat on the second story, cream colored curtains drawn back to explose a beautiful crystal chandelier.

"Seriously."

The three shook hands with the captain before tossing their suitcases downstairs. Helga excused herself to change in the small boat bathroom. It had to be the same size an an airplanes, there was hardly any room to move.

"I don't call this bathroom very luxurious!" Helga shouted as her ass pressed against the skin while she slipped her bikini bottoms on.

"Guest bathrooms are smaller than master's," Gerald replied as he pulled his swim trunks up. Together the two climbed onto the second deck, backs resting on the hot leather seats at the bow. Jamie-O was up on the third level with the captain, talking to his boss on his cell.

"I can't wait to get to the Bahamas." Helga reclined against the port side seats, hair falling free and blowing in the wind.

"I told you, we just needed a vacation."

"Yeah, I'm not even thinking about-" her voice trailed off before she could even think to complete her lie. Of course she missed Arnold. If he was here, they'd be cuddled up against the stern kissing and laughing and talking about how romantic dinner would be over looking the ocean, how great it would be to sneak into an empty hotel room. . .

"I know," Gerald sighed and imitated Helga's position. The two laid on the deck, soaking up the sun, until it set. They ate a simple meal in the lower deck: chicken, soup, vegetables. Gerald and Helga turned in early, both feeling a little sea sick. After popping some Dramamine, they were passed out cold until the following afternoon.

The pair were more than ready to dock and step on land again.

The captain cheerily announced their arrival, which encouraged the teens to change back into bathing suits, pack up their travel bags, and get excited.

The two jumped onto the dock before the boat was fully parked. "We'll see you soon, Jamie-O!" Gerald called back as he and Helga took off running up the coral colored concrete steps.

The docks ran along a mini Main Street, filled with different restaurants and shops. Children of all ages, dressed in wet bathing suits, were running around while parents stood in line to order ice cream.

"Why are there children here? I thought you said this was a classy place?" Helga hissed while shoved Gerald's shoulder. The two were walking up the ramp from the marina, towards the glass doors of the hotel.

"Didn't you look it up online? They have some kid thing going on now."

"Let's just get to the bar. I'm going to need to be drunk to deal with screaming kiddies," Helga sighed as the blast of air conditioning made her shiver.

The two walked through the white tiled room, paintings of landscapes and tropical islands covering the walls between the hotel's lobby and rooms. Helga could hear the echoing sounds of slot machine _bing_s off to her left. Gerald pulled her towards the right, up a few steps and around a large glass sculpture. It looked like clear coral growing from the ground.

The pair walked through another area of designer shops, full of diamond jewelry and fancy dresses.

The hallway finally opened up into the lobby.

"Wow," Helga gasped and walked towards the center. The ceiling was a dome painting in a beautiful mural of a the discovery of Atlantis. The colors aqua, coral, black gold, were reflected around the lobby. The check in desks were gold plated and the tiles had black diamonds around them.

The hotel was divided into a few sections: the Royal Towers, East and West. West was attached to the lobby, and met with the East by a bridge on the 20-something floor. On the bridge were all private suites.

The Coral and Beach towers were on the far side of the hotel, beyond the the casino. And the recently built The Reef, which was most 'condo' like, perfect for big families. It was farthest away from the Main Lobby, due to the pools and slides in between.

Heading down the stairs towards the pool, Helga stopped to look at the aquarium tanks. "That is one big sting ray."

Poseidon, the giant 20-foot wingspan sea animal, swam around the tank and broke the surface to suck down whatever food the employee was offering him. The rest of the small fish swam around, ignoring the giant beast as he swooped around in the water.

"It's actually the Giant Oceanic Manta Ray, _manta birostris_. The hotel named him Poseidon."

Helga rolled her eyes, "Phoebe told you that, didn't she?"

"As soon as I e-mailed her I was coming here she did research. I actually listen to the stuff she says, unlike some people." Gerald gave Helga a pointed look.

"Oh, come on, you're telling me you listened to her very lengthy description of the invention of modeling clay last year?"

"Yes. I learned about Play-Doh too." Helga laughed and dragged Gerald away from the aquarium.

"Let's go to the bar!"

Stepping outside to the sunshine again, Helga walked down the steps towards the pool. A long fountain filled with metal flying horses was spouting water for kids to laugh at.

The bar was wedged between the Temple slides and boardwalk to the beach.

Gerald and Helga jumped into the white metal chairs, relaxing against the blue cushions reeking of sun screen and salt water. The bartender smiled at them, his red hair buzzed into a low mohawk. He tossed his black tie over his shoulder as he mixed up a martini.

"Since it's still early, I think we should take it slow, don't you?" Helga asked with a smile.

Gerald smirked, "Buddy, can we get two Tequila shots?" He winked. "Each."

* * *

"And the entire afternoon was us at the bar. After every drink, the guy would give us cups of water. He was pacing us."

Arnold's face had set. He was staring through his camera with a passive face, his eyes clearly flaming in anger.

"And he laughed every time a kid came up to the bar beside me," Helga laughed at the memory. "I would cringe and turn away."

"Helga, were you rude to them?" Phoebe asked, trying hard to suppress her smile. Helga drunk and around kids meant she heckled them a little.

"No. Gerald wouldn't let me say anything. Neither would the bartender. If the kid looked older than twelve I'd laugh out loud at what they'd order."

"So, we were still at the bar, drinking off the last of our mixed drinks when we hear violins playing. . ."

* * *

A wedding was being held on the beach, romantic with the sunset, and Helga had it set in her mind that they needed to crash the reception.

"Did you bring anything appropriate for a wedding?" Helga asked as they walked back towards the boat. She was drunk but pulling off being sober well. Like she had many times before.

"Just a button down and slacks, but I can steal one of Jamie-O's ties. Why is getting into the wedding so important?"

"Free alcohol. And we get to make fun of strangers." Helga jumped onto the boat and walked downstairs, locking herself in the bathroom to change.

Olga had forced her shopping the day after graduation. Begrudgingly she accepted the clothes, but in her drunken changing, Helga had never been more grateful for her annoying sister. Olga had forced her to buy a long white halter dress with a black circle in the middle of her chest where the straps hooked around.

She found herself swaying against the wall in the bathroom as she struggled to put on her wedge heels. But after a minute she managed to slip them on correctly. "You decent, Hair Boy?"

"Just getting my tie, Pataki." He checked himself out in the mirror, laughing.

Helga threw her hands up in the air, smiling as Gerald tossed her her clutch. She missed it and the pair started laughing. "Let's rock this wedding!"

The two sneaked in under the velvet ropes. Employees were working on removing the plastic chairs from the ceremony while the dance floor became crowded. A DJ had been set up to replace the performers from the ceremony. A white tent covered the buffet of food, white Christmas lights hanging down to provide some light and give guests a chance to see the stars.

Helga picked up a place card, feeling herself swaying with the beach wind. "Wanna be a couple or two single strangers?"

Gerald shook his head, holding Helga's shoulder to steady her, "Should we really take place cards?"

"Of course!"

There were only three place cards left, obviously the guests who wouldn't show. A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick and Jenna Washington, and two names Helga couldn't pronounce. Most likely Russian. . .but it could have been the alcohol.

"Couple it is," she declared, lifting the gold plate card adorned in sea shells. Gerald rolled his eyes. How badly could this turn out?

Table Four had two other young couples.

Gerald quickly gave Helga a wink as he pulled her chair back in the sand. Laughing, she dropped into it. To everyone else they looked like the most harmonious pair, smiling and laughing and weirdly in love.

Gerald leaned over to the man beside him, who looked to be in his late twenties and had a Yankees baseball cap over his head, "Patrick Washington nice to meet you."

"Spencer Allen," he lifted his hand from the table, shaking Gerald's with an impressive amount of force, before leaning back to expose a deeply tanned and very exotic looking woman, "my fiancé, Grace."

Gerald offered them a congratulations. Helga was trying hard not to burst into laughter. Her thought of 'such a charmer' almost made her polite smile break into a full on drunken grin.

The other couple was two young women who looked positively love sick in the best way possible. Diana and Zoey had their fingers interlaced on the table cloth and it really struck Helga and Gerald. He tried to smile through the little pang kicked his heart: _I miss you, Phoebe._

"Oh, almost forgot. This is my wife, Jenna." Helga waved at her new acquaintances.

"How do you two know the couple?" Zoey asked as Diana watched the couples on the dance floor.

Helga was too drunk to think fast on her feet. Normally she would've had an entire backstory by now. She was a writer, damn it!

"We actually met them in the airport on the way here," Gerald supplied quickly. "Bonded over weddings and whatnot."

Helga visibly relaxed in her chair.

"You look awfully young, though," Spencer tilted his head to the right to examine Gerald more closely.

"Oh, we've heard that all our lives. Never looked old enough. People still say that I should be in high school," Gerald tossed his head back and laughed. "Plus, we married young. How long ago was it?" Gerald asked, clearly in a teasing tone.

"Right out of college. . . " she paused, hoping to pass off a reflective expression, "Has it really been five years?"

"Must be." Gerald leaned back a little and draped his arm around the back of Helga's chair. She tried to forget how when Arnold did it sometimes he would move his hand to her shoulder, down her arm, pull her close.

"Now it is with my greatest pleasure to announce the arrival of Dr. and Mrs. Parker Evans," the lead singer of the band smiled, lips pressed against the mike. The bride and groom, still wearing their very formal attire, walked out down a candle-lit path, hands intertwined. Once they reached the center of the empty dance floor, they shared a quick kiss, pulling back to grin and laugh. The crowd of a hundred or so applauded, stopping only to accept champagne as waiters/esses in all white outfits handed the full flutes out.

The glasses brought on a new _tink-clink-tink _sound as people tapped them with silverware. Spencer started chanting, "Speech!" It was clear from Parker's smile the boys were old friends.

Parker hesitantly stepped onto the stage, smiling anxiously at the crowd. "I just wanted to thank you all for being here today, for coming all the way from Maine or as far away as France," the recently named Mrs. Parker Evans turned and waved at some of her relatives, "and spending your week here with us. Please, enjoy the food and dance until we get kicked off the beach!"

Everyone cheered and held up their glasses in celebration.

A few minutes later, a petite girl stepped on stage, "Sorry to interrupt our lovely band, but someone's informed me we should do the planned speeches now so we have more time to dance!"

The crowd applauded again.

"I guess I'll go first. . . .I'm Gianna Anderson, our lovely bride Mary's older sister. When I was asked to be maid of honor, my first thought was 'Crap, I owe her for woking my wedding!'" Everyone laughed. "But after I reluctantly joined her crusade to have the best wedding ever, I got to know her fiancé better. Parker had been in medical school and working on his residency for the entirety of their relationship and the poor guy never got a break. But getting to know him in the context of planning this wedding. . ." she shook her head, "he's incredible. Calm under pressure and excellent at calming his wife, I was beyond impressed at how well he knew my little sister."

Gianna stepped down the stage and crossed the stage to the table of honor, where the in-laws and immediate families sat. "Parker got the flowers, band, seating chart and location chosen in one night with swift discussions and encouraging smiles. And I sat there on the floor in front of Mary's coffee table in shock and awe. Made me wish my husband was half as helpful." There were a few whooping calls and shouts of 'Dave!'

Helga laughed and looked up at Gerald. They were wearing matching expressions, clearly thinking about their _real _beloveds back in the States.

"This guy," Gianna had moved behind the table, smiling at Parker, "had officially joined the Anderson clan just hours after meeting Mary... "

". . .We walked into their house, drunk out of our minds after hitting Mary's favorite bar. To celebrate meeting new friends," the speaker winked, "Mary decided we should go back to her house. Little did we know we'd meet her parents," the best man Keith was laughing and wiping his eyes, "and Parker had the balls to challenge Mr. Anderson in a drinking contest. I'd heard stories from Mary and knew this was a horrible idea. But I was impressed that Parker could hold his own. As a senior in college, we were all experienced drinkers. But none of us expected the stamina from the old man."

"Hey, I'm not that old!" a voice called from the crowd.

"You have two married daughters, old timer. Pretty soon you'll be grandparents," Keith smirked, taking a sip of his beer that he held in his free hand. "And we watched in horror as Bruce, good ol' Bruce, chugged the last of the pitcher and belched. I applauded the man, and in my inebriated state of mind, praised the Gods for him." More laughter. "It was at that moment I knew that Bruce approved of Parker. And it worked out for the best. God knows he wouldn't want me as his son-in-law."

There were more speeches from parents and the people of honor, then everyone was dismissed to get more food or dance. Diana and Zoey zipped off to the floor, swaying to a romantic ballad.

"I'm definitely not drunk enough to dance," Helga whispered.

"Sure, then tell yourself to stop swaying." She had been rocking and leaning in closer to Gerald's arm.

"That's the other alcohol, not the music," Helga rolled her eyes. "Do you think you'd be able to get to the food table or should I?"

"You're drunk in heels on the sand. I'll take it," Gerald rose from his seat, asking Spencer and Grace if they needed anything. They declined.

Spencer decided to go talk to Parker, leaving Helga - Jenna - and Grace alone.

"How long have you and Patrick been together?"

_Five years since marriage. . . four years in college. . .give one year in high school. . ._ "Almost ten years." Making them almost twenty-nine. Sure, she could pass for that.

"Wow. No kids?"

"Oh, no. We're in the process of moving from our old neighborhood to Hillwood."

Grace's interest seemed piqued. "What's in Hillwood for you?"

Helga smirked, "Good school district, nice neighborhoods. Ger-_Patrick_ thinks it's a good idea for when we want children."

Yeah, right.

She could practically hear Arnold screaming in her mind. They hadn't even talked about life after college, let alone _their_ future. She did have quite a few suspicions about Arnold's ideas though, the most recent flashing neon sign was from Valentine's Day: _Arnold intertwined their fingers, lifting Helga's hand up so he could see the ring on her finger. He kissed the band quickly, and couldn't help but smile. Helga found herself watching Arnold's expression. His smile had faded to a look of content._

Possibly jumping the quicksand a little bit, but three years together was a long time. And Helga had always been a very forward-thinking girl.

She couldn't even imagine what was running through Gerald's mind right now. She was pretty sure he and Phoebe agreed to get married in middle school.

And even pretending to be wed to someone else felt like cheating.

She knew people thought Pheebs and Gerald were crazy, that dating for so long meant that they were just comfortable and didn't want to be with other people, see what was out there. The truth was that there was no one out there better for each other than Phoebe and Gerald (excluding herself and Arnold). Fate just didn't like to play games with them.

Gerald returned a minute later, interrupting the silence Helga didn't even notice had settled. Grace had been watching Spencer and Parker laughing. Gerald put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't have to stay with Jenna, Grace." She turned back, surprised, but smiled and left the table without another word.

Helga held her head in her hands, elbows propped up against the silk tablecloth. "If anyone asks we're moving to Hillwood soon because you want kids."

He snorted. "Sure."

"And we've been together since our senior year of high school. . .ten years."

"Got it." He shoved a plate overflowing with food in between her arms.

Helga smiled, "Thank you, _honey."_

He tossed her a friendly wink before finishing off another glass fo champagne. "That's why you love me, darling."

* * *

"We were drunk for the next twenty four hours, occasionally talking to guests who recognized us from the wedding." Gerald resume cracking his neck.

"Our blood alcohol level was probably hovering above poisoning for the entire trip, dipping in when we got married."

Gerald exhaled deeply through his nose, eyes shut as he recalled the headache he felt the morning after. And the vomiting. Oh, the color of the marina's water had changed drastically. "We got smashed just to get through that."

"I think. . ." Helga sighed, "I think it was more us marrying to close that gap between us," Helga nodded to Arnold, whose lips were pulled back into a concentrated frown. "We were imagining someone else at the altar."

"When were you, married, officially?" Phoebe asked. Helga felt relieved to focus on solid facts instead of drunk opinions.

Helga glanced up from her desk where an annulment ticket sat, "Early in the morning on July 30th. It was annulled August 2nd," she added quickly. "Rhonda's lawyers do great work."

"So it's over?" Phoebe's eyes flickered from Gerald to Helga.

"Completely done," Helga nodded. _Nothing but a nightmare now,_ she thought.

"Can I. . ." Arnold's voice cracked. "I need a minute with Helga." Everyone had been surprised to hear him speak. He had been silent for the past three hours.

Gerald clicked off immediately, too terrified to say anything. Phoebe gave them a polite goodbye.

The humming of the overheating computers filled the silence.

Arnold got up to his feet, turning his computer as he paced back and forth. Helga watched, dejected. "What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to be_okay _with this?" He pulled at his hair, growling under his breath.

"No."

"How. . .how can I trust you now?"

She knew there was no way they could rebuild a shattered relationship being separated by college. "You can't," her lower lip trembled.

More silence.

"_Gerald_," his voice shot a bolt of heat to her stomach. His best friend, the boy he knew since he was _three, married_ to _his girlfriend. _How did someone accept that?

_Drunk actions are sober ideas._

Arnold's fists were curled against his sides, with Helga pleading, "Don't, stop, you'll hurt your shou-" _whack!_ Despite the thousands of miles between them, Helga still ducked. Arnold shoved something off his desk and onto the floor. His fist then made an impact against the fake wood of his desk. The laptop shook and it was on the bed.

"I don't know if I should be more angry or just more-" the thick taste of upcoming tears settled in his throat. "You kissed him, you married him, you probably f-"

Helga shrieked, "Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence, Arnold Shortman. I. Would. Never."

"I wouldn't put it past him." Now everything tasted bitter. The knot in his gut made the bitter bile and taste of tears threaten to rise.

"We were so drunk and disoriented on the boat. We passed out on the deck and woke up when the sun rose. We saw the rings on our fingers and screamed. Then the rocking of the boat got to me and. . ."

"Bet that killed the mood," he shot back with just the smallest hint of sarcasm.

"There was no mood! Arnold, I love you, and I never meant to-we were just so miserable-" she couldn't explain herself. Not when she saw him hovering in front of the webcam with tears in his eyes and a scowl pulling his lips.

"Time," was all he said before clicking off the screen.

* * *

Shawn was never surprised. It was something his sisters hated about him, jumping out of closets or suddenly screaming while driving a car couldn't make him jump. But Shawn had never met Arnold. That boy was full of surprises.

Shawn was in for the shock of his life when he walked in their room to see his roommate's face streaked with tears and a hardly used hair dryer in at least ten pieces on the floor.

"_Dios mio,_" he gasped and shut the door quickly. The hollow sound of fake wood slamming made Arnold look up from his laptop screen. "What happened?" Shawn gestured to the dryer and then to Arnold's face.

Arnold turned his head, wiping tears away before clearing his throat. He shut his eyes, brows furring, as if the memory of what happened was painful, "My best friend married my girlfriend."

Scratch that,_ now_ Shawn had never been more surprised.

"_Jesús Cristo,_ are you kidding me?" Before Arnold responded, Shawn answered his own question, "Of course not, other wise you wouldn't be crying to your computer." He gasped over-dramatically. "Are they still together? Oh my God, has this been going on the whole time?"

"No. They've hated each other since, like, the dawn of time and only recently became civil."

"Oh," Shawn bent down and picked up the wires, balling them up tossing them into the trash can. "So, why the hell did they get married?"

"They were in the Bahamas and thought that being married looked nice, and they were so drunk that they decided to go do it."

Shawn let out a low whistle. "So, going home in a few days is really going to suck, right?" Arnold groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay." Arnold sat up in bed, "I just. . .don't know if I can even face her, let alone Gerald."


End file.
